


Instigate

by Gem_Gem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Kissing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Horny John, M/M, Male Slash, Mention of Threesome - F/M/M, Multi, Not What It Looks Like, OC not in it for long, Rough Kissing, Slash, Sorry Not Sorry, Things will get better in Chapter Two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's date instigates something between Sherlock and him that may change their relationship forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Troublemaker

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one of those "Sorry I'm not sorry" stories/moments.
> 
> This came into my head several weeks ago or so, and I really wanted to know if people found it as hot and entertaining as I do, so here it is!
> 
> I may write another chapter(s) if I get good feedback, and if not, this can stand alone as a one shot!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Can we go back to your place?” Celina whispered into John’s ear, voice sweet and dark and alluring, beaten only by the moist press of her plump lips against John’s throat and cheek, rolling over his skin like slick velvet. 

“I…we could, but…my flatmate will be there,” John murmured, turning to capture her in a chaste kiss in automatic apology. He didn’t want her to meet Sherlock, not at that moment, not with her lusty and wild.

She grinned at him mischievously with a glint in her eyes and hummed huskily, “Mm. All the better.”

John blinked and frowned as her words filtered through to his brain, “Wait, what?” he asked, stumbling when she pulled him to the curb and hailed for a taxi with one wriggle of her talented and long fingers.

“Please? Come on, let’s go back to yours,” she moaned, nipping at his earlobe with a flash of white teeth and all but climbing on him as he fumbled to open the car door. “I’m not wearing any underwear…”

“Jesus,” John laughed breathlessly, wrenching the door open a little too roughly in his haste. He shuffled along the seats with a muttered apology to the glaring driver and then leaned forwards to offer his address, checking his pockets for his wallet and his keys unconsciously, eager to get back as soon as he could to quickly bypass Sherlock and take her straight to his room. John hoped to God that Sherlock was busy, or possibly not at the flat at all. 

However, it was not to be, and Sherlock was in the living room, sprawled on the sofa, when they stumbled inside, wrapped up together and kissing. Celina noticed him as Sherlock sat up with a frown and she grinned and pulled away from John so fast that it left John falling into the wall, knocking his head before he could think to stop himself. 

“You must be, Sherlock,” She beamed, grabbing his hand in both of hers and seemingly admiring the length of his fingers with an impish expression that bothered John more than he thought it would. “I’m Celina—though you probably already knew that.”

Sherlock blinked slowly at her and then leaned back and moved over when she squeezed herself down beside him, her plush bust squashed into his arm. Sherlock looked annoyed and confused at the sudden invasion to his personal space, and glanced over at John with a look that blatantly voiced his displeasure, both at the woman stuck to his side and the fact that John had the audacity to bring a female companion that was stuck to his side.

“Hey, Celina, my room is just—”

“John, come here,” she interrupted, turning to catch his gaze with a sultry expression that made him obey almost immediately. “Sit on Sherlock’s other side.”

“What?” John asked, thrown, sharing a puzzled look with Sherlock who shrugged, for the first time at a loss to what was going on. “Celina, I thought that you wanted to…to…that is I…”

“Sit,” Celina ordered him, pointing with one slender finger, and crossing her legs slowly to expose more of her creamy thigh as a type of promise of what was to come.

John dropped onto the sofa cushions, jostling Sherlock backwards. Celina looked eager, a blush coating her cheeks and the attractive cleavage of her ample bosom. John didn’t know what was happening but he liked how she looked at him and smiled at her charmingly, leaning forwards on his elbows; he wanted to be sitting next to her, not Sherlock, he wanted to run his fingers up the inside of her legs, and along the curve of her hip. 

Celina giggled and pushed her hand on Sherlock’s chest as he rolled his eyes and went to get up, “Stay,” she murmured lowly. “John, would you do anything for me, do you think?”

“Definitely,” John replied thoughtlessly, ignoring the look Sherlock shot him, but unable to overlook the moment Sherlock’s eyes flickered and he scowled at Celina with a shrewd expression.

“Really?” She purred with a sexy little grin that made her eyes sparkle. “Anything at all?”

“John, don’t—”

“God, yes,” John answered, talking over Sherlock who huffed and threw his hands up in resignation.

“Good,” Celina smirked, resting one hand on Sherlock’s shoulder as she gestured to him with a tilt of her head. “Kiss him.”

John froze and lifted his eyebrows in disbelief, “…Sorry what?”

“Kiss him,” She repeated, stroking Sherlock’s arm, eyes never leaving John’s.

“Um…wh-why? Why would I want to do that?” John asked with a choked laugh, licking his lips and shooting a frustrated look at Sherlock. “We’re not—I’m not gay, Celina. Or bisexual for that matter.” 

She pouted at him, arching her back to show more of her chest, “You said you’d do anything, John.”

“Yes but…but that’s…that’s not what I thought you meant. I’m not like that. I don’t kiss blokes—and Sherlock’s not like that either, are you, Sherlock? You can’t force—”

“I’d be so terribly grateful,” Celina said in a voice that shot a tingle of lust down John’s spine that rendered him silent and reinforced the heady flush of arousal that had dissipated at her words. 

Sherlock glared at her and then looked disappointed as John jerked into motion, cupping Sherlock’s face and kissing him on the mouth, rough and brief and dry. John looked expectantly at Celina with a blush, avoiding eye contact with a glowering and bristling Sherlock.

“What was that?” Celina complained, pouting again and shaking her head in immense dissatisfaction. “Come on, John, you can kiss better than that. Do it properly! Give him a proper kiss.”

Sherlock rubbed a hand over his mouth and once again tried to get up, but Celina pulled him back down with a playful expression, pinning him there as she crawled across his lap, perching on one of his legs appealingly. She stretched out slightly, lounging along him, her hair tickling Sherlock’s temple as she tilted her head, her body supported by Sherlock’s chest and narrow lean waist.

“John, do something!” Sherlock groused.

Celina laughed throatily and winked at John, “Yes, John, do something!”

“Celina, get off him—”

“Think of it as an experiment,” Celina suddenly told a squirming Sherlock, smiling when he looked at her with a soft frown and very faintly consideration, his eyes flitting over her face. “You ever had a threesome before?”

“No,” Sherlock replied shortly. “And I don’t wish to, either.”

“Why? You might like it,” Celina told him, reaching to pull John close by his tie, reeling him in until his cheek brushed hers. “John’s had threesomes, haven’t you, John?”

Flustered, John tipped forwards and then adjusted himself by bracing one hand on the back of the sofa next to Sherlock’s shoulder, “Yes…yes, but it was with two girls, not with another bloke. Celina, come on now. Sherlock and I aren’t like that.”

Celina turned and kissed John slowly on the lips, ignoring his muffled protests and deepening the kiss until he gave in with a long, shaking breath through his nose. They kissed passionately; inches from Sherlock’s face, and John blushed harder at the audience, torn between continuing and stopping to help Sherlock escape. Before he was forced to choose, Celina pulled back leisurely and smirked at John, eyes dark and lips glisteningly swollen.

“It gets me so hot,” She whispered against his chin, nipping at him teasingly and cupping the back of Sherlock’s head with one hand. “Seeing two men kissing…kiss him for me, John. Kiss him and I’ll reward you.”

John took a breath to decline but Celina pushed his hand under her dress, stroking his fingers along her heated and naked skin, and he groaned in the back of his throat before he could stop himself.

“Oh for goodness sake—just do it, John,” Sherlock snapped, bringing John’s attention back to the fact that Sherlock was still close by, caught up in Celina’s game. “Do it if only to shut her up.”

Celina’s smirk broadened but she didn’t look away from John, her face attractively flushed. John sighed deeply through his nose and finally looked at Sherlock, who was glaring at John with narrowed eyes, infuriated and probably disgusted with what was going on literally right in his lap. Sherlock twitched an eyebrow and flicked his gaze from Celina, to his lap, and then to John, and John nodded slowly.

“Fine,” John muttered, clearing his throat when his voice came out overly rough. He turned towards Sherlock and after sending him an apologetic look, which was ultimately snubbed; John leaned forwards and caught Sherlock’s mouth in a kiss after a brief hesitation in which he told himself that the quicker he got it done, the quicker he could take Celina to bed. 

“And do it properly this time,” Celina whispered seductive and fervent.

John rolled his eyes and angled Sherlock by his jaw, slanting their mouths in a more comfortable position and closing his eyes tightly. He tried to imagine he was kissing Celina instead, but Sherlock’s lips were all wrong, and Sherlock himself was as still as a statue, lips sealed. John peeked at Celina discreetly, looking for inspiration, and applied more pressure at her aroused expression, shifting closer to Sherlock in reaction to her pink skin and heaving bust, kissing Sherlock how he wanted to kiss her. Sherlock’s face was smooth as John’s fingers slipped from his jaw and up the slope of his cheekbone, before delving into the curls of Sherlock’s fringe, and John pretended it was Celina’s hair he was combing through and slowly gripping.

Celina was breathing heavily, her eyes lidded and lips parted, and John watched, transfixed, as she trailed her fingers over her breasts and down her stomach, rumpling up the end of her dress to expose her glistening and trembling thighs. John exhaled roughly at the sight and suddenly Sherlock grunted, parting his lips in response to the instinctive shift in the kiss, and allowed John’s impulsive tongue entry into his hot, slick mouth, Sherlock’s tongue shyly brushing with mimicking strokes. 

John jerked his gaze to Sherlock’s closed eyes and flushing cheeks, in mild surprise, feeling how Sherlock gradually yielded, sinking back into the settee and tipping his head in a blatant, eager, invitation for more. The change didn’t go unnoticed by Celina, whom gasped with sexual approval and pressed fingers on John’s nape to urge him to deepen it further. Frowning, John resisted for a second and glanced at Celina, but she leaned in and flirtatiously bit his ear, breathing heavy and hot down his neck until John’s eyes hooded and he pushed forward against Sherlock to intensify the movement of his lips, slanting his mouth against Sherlock’s harder to which Sherlock exhaled through his nose with a tremble and responded in kind. 

After another minute went by, John found it exceedingly difficult to focus on Celina and pretend that he wasn’t kissing Sherlock, as Sherlock was leaning up into him and had, at some point, gripped hold of John’s shirt, pulling it from where it had been neatly tucked into his trousers. John shifted back a little and Sherlock followed him instantly, re-joining their mouths with a hard exhale that puffed hotly over John’s chin; John’s lips were tingling, sensitive and wet, and he fell into Sherlock with a gruff sound in the back of his throat, one knee pushing between Sherlock’s thighs as he adjusted his position. 

Sherlock’s fingers brushed the bare skin of John’s stomach briefly and John’s entire body jolted with a powerful surge of excitement and he flinched as if struck, pulling away with an obscenely slick sound as their mouths separated. Sherlock opened his eyes and swallowed thickly, snapping his mouth shut and looking just as shocked as John felt. Sherlock’s pupils were vastly dilated and John stared at them, hoping they were only dilated from Sherlock having his eyes closed and that they’d contract in reaction to the light, but they merely pulsed faintly and remained wide. Almost without thought, John pressed his fingers to Sherlock’s throat and felt the rapid thundering of his heart with disbelief and confusion, gaping at Sherlock who clenched his jaw and stared back. 

“Aww,” Celina sulked beside them, her voice laced in arousal and fingers between her legs. “That was way too short! You’re such a tease, John—would you kiss him again? Just once more! Please? And Sherlock, could you kiss him back more?”

Sherlock blushed all at once and looked at her with a mix between a scowl and an embarrassed grimace “I don’t think—”

“Okay,” John said throatily, surprised that he had uttered it at first, unsure what that meant, if it meant anything at all. “Once more…” 

“No, I…” Sherlock started, trailing off into silence when John leaned back towards him, lingered fleetingly an inch or two from Sherlock’s lips, and then closed the gap with a hand around Sherlock’s neck, much to Celina’s delight.

John wondered if it was merely sudden curiosity in Sherlock that urged him onwards or something else that had made him kiss him again, but eventually John pushed all thought aside and deepened the kiss almost instantaneously. Sherlock huffed a hot breath through his nose and gripped at John’s arm in response, trembling briefly all over and then arching up at him. 

Celina watched them, only touching John once by sliding a shaking hand down his back, tapping his backside, and pushing him that little bit closer to Sherlock before she slid off Sherlock’s lap and tugged on John’s leg pointedly. John glanced at her and then adjusted his position accordingly, straddling Sherlock’s lap, and Celina groaned, grinning and biting down on her lower lip when John tugged on Sherlock’s.

Sherlock hummed deeply when John pinned him back into the sofa and John closed his eyes, grabbing handfuls of Sherlock’s hair to eagerly and passionately strengthen their kissing without thought, grunting when Sherlock bit at him in excitement. Slowly but surely the thought of Celina was lost and John dropped to sit heavily on Sherlock’s knees, dragging him closer with impatient fingers and curling one arm around Sherlock’s shoulders firmly. Their kiss was wet and messy and impassioned, and John’s eyes rolled back as he tried to get closer still, tilting his head and bumping noses with Sherlock with a moan that Sherlock answered with a groan of his own.

“Shall we move this to the bedroom?” Celina abruptly whispered in his ear, jerking John back from the haze he was sinking into.

“What?” John murmured, turning his head and pulling back, watching Sherlock in the corner of his eyes. “Oh…right. Um, yeah, yeah, let’s…”

John scrambled off Sherlock’s lap and gestured towards the stairs to his bedroom, “It’s…this way,” he muttered, clearing his throat and not looking at the way Sherlock had ducked his head and rearranged his shirt.

“You coming, Sherlock?” Celina asked with a quirk to her lips, crooking her finger when Sherlock looked over. 

John opened his mouth but anything he was about to say was lost as Sherlock locked gazes with him and deliberately stood up with a blush scattered over his cheeks and down his neck. Sherlock took Celina’s outstretched hand and then turned his head to stare at John with an unreadable expression as she prompted John to lead them all to his bedroom with a kiss and a wink, Sherlock standing at her side with mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips.


	2. It takes Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With conflicting and transforming emotions, John finds he can't go through with that his date has planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bye bye Celina!
> 
> Hello boys!
> 
> Enjoy!

Halfway up the stairs, John paused and shook his head, gripping the handrail until his knuckles whitened, “I…I can’t do this,” he muttered.

“What was that, John?” Celina purred in his ear from her place a step below him, her hand still in Sherlock’s.

John turned to face her and looked straight at Sherlock before he could stop himself, “I can’t do this—We…we can’t do this. I think it might be better if you went home, Celina. I’m sorry. I really am but…I can’t do it,” John told her, forcing himself to glance at her to see her face shutter and fall. “I’ll…call you a cab…”

“Come on, it’s just nerves, John,” Celina said, letting go of Sherlock to touch John’s arm as he slipped passed her. “They’ll go once we get started…I promise.”

“No, I can’t do it, Celina,” John repeated, shooting her a twisting small smile. 

Celina sighed and nodded, following John down and leaving Sherlock behind, “All right, John…all right,” she said, sounding immensely disappointed but smiling at him and hugging him softly. “I had a lovely time anyway? It was great! You really know how to treat a girl!”

John huffed with a grin and walked with her to the sitting room as he ordered her a taxi and tried not to look at her to see the displeasure; his eyes instead lowered and settled on her body, but it did nothing to appease him and he merely stared at her dress dully until she moved to sit on the sofa with her legs crossed gracefully.

“…Are you sure you don’t want to?” She asked gently. “What about just you and me?”

John shook his head and peered up when Sherlock walked in and lingered in the doorway to the kitchen awkwardly, “No…I…I can’t. Sorry.”

Celina glanced between them and then slowly smiled, nodding, “Okay.”

When she went, she hugged them both lightly, kissing Sherlock on the cheek and holding John’s arm as he walked her out to the awaiting taxi. He waved at her and she grinned and winked at him through the glass with a laugh he couldn’t hear. John huffed and scratched the back of his head nervously, then wandered slowly back into the flat. Sherlock was no longer in the kitchen or sitting room, and John looked around and then walked up to Sherlock’s closed bedroom door, lifting a hand to knock, then lowering it, then lifting it again.

Sherlock opened his door with a look of question and confusion, his eyes flickering over John rapidly. John didn’t speak, he couldn’t, and in its place he smiled, shifted his weight, and slowly, leisurely, reached out to take Sherlock’s hand in his. He pulled meaningfully and Sherlock frowned but stepped forward, then took another step, and another, before John was leading him by the hand out of his bedroom and up the stairs to John’s own. John swallowed thickly and took a deep breath as they neared the top, glancing over his shoulder to gauge Sherlock’s reaction, pleased to see a new flush crawling up his face.

John couldn’t believe what he was doing. Was he out of his mind? What was he going to do? John had never done anything with another man, had never even thought about it, yet he was blushing hotly and trembling, leading his male flatmate into his room to finish what Celina had started between them. Sherlock was silent behind him, his breathing somewhat increased, and John squeezed his fingers as he opened the door to his room and pulled Sherlock inside, positioning him next to the bed with gentle persuasion as he went back to close the door again behind them.

Sherlock watched him and then turned to stare at the bed uneasily when John moved to his side; Sherlock’s jaw tensed as if he was going to talk, but nothing came, and John turned around to his drawer and purposely brought out a handful of condoms, a box of tissues, as well as a bottle of lubrication. Once he turned back to Sherlock, Sherlock’s eyes were wide and hugely dilated, and John gawked at them, entranced. He never thought he’d see Sherlock look as he did, never thought of Sherlock as a sexual being until that night. John knew he should say something, or perhaps stop what was going to happen, but he couldn’t and found himself shuffling over to turn Sherlock around and sit him down on the bed, fingering open his shirt gradually.

John stared in Sherlock’s eyes as he pushed the shirt down to bare his shoulders, then pulled it off his arms and dropped it to the floor, and for a moment wished Sherlock would stop him, would push him away and angrily leave, insult him and sneer at him; however Sherlock did none of them and only glanced at his shirt shyly with an attractive blush blooming up his naked chest. John smoothed his hands down it, rubbed his palms against Sherlock’s pebbling nipples, and then slid his fingers to unbuckle Sherlock’s belt and undo his trousers. 

John paused afterwards and altered his stance, licking his lips apprehensively and breathing steadily through his nose; he didn’t know how he felt with Sherlock remaining so still but also so responsive, and the contradiction made him somewhat dizzy as he admired the deepening blush on Sherlock’s pale skin and the heaving of his chest. He looked up into Sherlock’s face as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of both Sherlock’s trousers and underwear slowly, and Sherlock parted his lips and tilted his head, coy and self-conscious, something that made John lean down closely, a hairsbreadth away from kissing him until he urged Sherlock’s hips up and pulled his trousers and underwear down to his knees.

When John moved back and looked down, it was to the sight of Sherlock’s half hard penis and tensing thighs, and John glanced away, jerking into motion and yanking his tie and shirt off with unsteady, but still incredibly slow, movements, discarding them in a pile at his feet. He fumbled and dwelled at his trousers for a few seconds, but dropped them, and his boxers almost lightning fast, stepping out of them only to step close to Sherlock and grab his waist, manhandling him backwards and up the bed, tugging Sherlock’s trousers and underwear the rest of the way off in the process, throwing them aside.

Sherlock exhaled a gruff breath and shuffled along the covers, following John’s direction to rest back against his pillow with an excited tremor, looking a little lost and inexperienced as he awkwardly shifted his limbs. John took a few moments to gaze down the length of Sherlock’s naked body, and then gently spread Sherlock’s legs either side of him as he moved to kneel between them significantly, watching Sherlock’s expression shift as his stomach muscles jumped. John waited uncertainly as Sherlock looked between their bodies and then observed the growing length of John’s erection; and only when Sherlock swallowed with a low noise and let his legs fall limp and shaking, did John then reach for him, curling his hand around Sherlock’s manhood, surprised at how easy it was.

John wanted to ask Sherlock if it was really okay that he touched him, wanted to ask him a hundred and one questions, but nothing fell from his mouth but moist, hot breath, as he stroked Sherlock and leaned over him. Was it too late to take it back? Was it too late to stop and pretend nothing of that night ever happened? Could they come back from this if it all went horribly, horribly wrong? John felt his heart skip a beat in anxiety, and leaned further over Sherlock, looking into his face as he felt him harden in his hand and against his fingers. 

Sherlock’s eyes were hooded, his lashes fluttering, and he was staring back up at John with parted lips, his body tensing on every upstroke and his hands gripping the bed sheets. John shuddered and dipped down to kiss him instinctively, then reached for the lube with a clumsy hand, looking back up to find Sherlock intensely studying him as he flicked the cap off and squeezed it into palm and onto his fingers, some of it dribbling onto Sherlock’s juddering stomach.

Once John reached down between Sherlock’s legs, Sherlock jerked and pushed up onto his elbows with a tensed look, shaking when John caressed him slickly. John hesitated a second and blushed, leaning back a little and pulling his fingers away, however Sherlock grabbed his wrist to stop him and shook his head, pushing them back into place with a low, timid, but shameless grunt. After several seconds, Sherlock rested back down with a long, drawn-out breath, and let John’s wrist go to allow John more movement.

John panicked and shivered, not entirely sure what he thought of what was happening, he could barely believe that he had been kissing Sherlock a few moments ago, let alone that he had led Sherlock into his room, stripped him naked, and was now, very slowly and carefully, touching him in a place that had probably not been touched by many others, if any at all. John had done it with a girl, many times before, but to be doing it with a man, with Sherlock, was completely different. It could ruin everything, what John was doing, but he didn’t want to stop, and he obviously had some thinking to do about his sexuality afterwards, going by the state of his ridged erection and his eagerness to press into Sherlock’s body.

Sherlock’s breath hitched when John finally slipped in a finger, and John paused, shifting on his knees as Sherlock grew accustomed to the sensation and let out a very deep moan that spurred John to press further up and crook his finger with a slow, curling grin. Sherlock exclaimed with a shout and wide, blinking eyes, when John nudged his prostate, and John huffed a laugh, stroking very gently.

By the time John had made sure Sherlock was well prepared for what John was almost overly enthusiastic to do, Sherlock was trembling and panting, his erection bobbing, and slippery and flushed dark; John stroked it once with his palm and then slowly pulled his fingers out, grasping for the condoms almost impatiently. He rolled one on Sherlock first, thinking randomly of an easy clean up, and then ripped into another wrapper for himself, putting it on with slick, shaking fingers and hoisting Sherlock’s hips high to brace them on his legs as he took a few deep breaths, looked Sherlock in the eyes, and positioned himself meaningfully whilst he coated his twitching erection in lubrication.

Sherlock held his breath and scrambled at John’s shoulders as John pushed gradually into him, arching his head back into the pillow with a husky groan and a wince. John stilled and clenched his jaw, waiting for Sherlock to relax before pushing in all the way with a moist, lewd, sound and moaning breathlessly; Sherlock was contracting and throbbing around him tightly, and John lifted his head to gaze into Sherlock’s flushed face in bewilderment and growing desire.

Sherlock murmured something lowly after several moments had passed, and John blinked in perplexity, “…What?”

“Move,” Sherlock groaned with a twitch of his hips, and John jerked and thrust in reply slowly, then again as Sherlock whined and clutched at him, responding with a thrust of his own. 

John hovered over Sherlock and after the forth or fifth thrust, crashed his mouth into Sherlock’s with a hoarse groan, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s torso and breathing heavily into him as he moved with gathering speed, pressing close and trapping Sherlock’s hardened length between their stomachs. Sherlock’s breath was knocked from him for an instant and then he arched and surged up against John, digging his fingers into John’s shoulders and then clawing down his back roughly, grasping his sides.

They moved together awkwardly and inconsistently at first, and then found some sort of rhythm and stuck to it, kissing messily and caressing, scratching and gripping at each other. John rotated his hips on one thrust and Sherlock cried out in pleasure gutturally, throwing his head back and scrambling at the bed sheets and John wildly, moaning loud and deep when John smirked and angled perfectly for the same spot over and over.

At first Sherlock moaned and writhed and grunted, but after a while, he whined and suddenly hissed in arousal, bucking into John hard, and began to curse and ramble lewdly.

“Mmm—Fuck!” Sherlock growled with a deep, vibrating, throaty voice and his eyes rolling back into his head. “Fuh-fuck…fuck…fuckfuckfuck!”

John huffed breathlessly, giddy from the way the word sounded in Sherlock’s voice, from Sherlock’s mouth, and kissed him to try and muffle him somewhat, reaching down between them to take him in hand and stroke in time with his snapping hips. John could tell by the feel of him that Sherlock wasn’t long from orgasm already, and kissed him harder as he increased his movements, rolling and rocking into Sherlock with more and more passion.

“Ah!” Sherlock gasped loudly, disconnecting their mouths as he arched and fumbled to entwine his fingers with John’s around his aching erection. “Fuck yes…”

“Hush,” John murmured with a moan, even as the words shot wave after wave of heightened pleasure through him, enough to leave him lightheaded and shaking.

Sherlock smirked and groaned gutturally, swearing instead in French, then German, then Russian, before he choked on a breath, shuddered violently and rutted in an erratic scrambling that knocked the bed into the wall with a fierce and loud thumping. John clutched at him as Sherlock climaxed with a taut and tensed body, a curved throat and an open mouth, filling the condom John had put on him in hard, hot pulses that made John whimper in sympathy. 

A tremor quivered through Sherlock a second or two later, and John watched as he blinked and groaned noisily, eyes tipping back with a powerful twitching of his hips that urged John suddenly into him harder and faster until John grunted and bit down on Sherlock’s shoulder in his own apex, vision blanking for a long shaky moment.

John fell against Sherlock, breathing deeply, and kissed every inch of hot skin that he could reach before he pulled slowly out and rolled off to the side, lazily smiling and giggling aimlessly. Sherlock turned his head to look at him; his fringe plastered to his temples, and chuckled breathily, closing his eyes and crawling his fingers around John’s own, as they laughed together, naked and sweaty and pleasurably thrumming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback fuels me!


	3. The Aftermath

“Don’t you want to…talk about it?” Sherlock asked John the following morning over breakfast; his face pinched in what John had come to recognise as Sherlock being confused but trying to hide it. 

“Talk about what?” John replied with a frown, leaning on the kitchen table and promptly trying to ignore the anxious rolling and flipping of his stomach as he locked eyes with Sherlock with a suppressed tremor.

Sherlock rotated his wrist loosely, “Well, we did just have sex last night. I thought for sure you’d want to discuss it? Pick it apart and worry about the state of our friendship and all of that.”

“Oh,” John mumbled, clearing his throat and shaking his head with a blush. “No, no, we don’t have to talk about it. Things are…fine. Just dandy. There’s nothing to discuss—unless you say there is?”

“We had sex,” Sherlock reiterated, motioning with his mug of coffee for more emphasis. 

“…Yes.”

“You and I,” Sherlock said, lifting his brows. “We don’t do that—So are we going to do that now? Will this be a regular thing? Part of our…relationship?”

John swallowed thickly and shrugged, flicking his gaze around the room, “I…I don’t know. Do you want it to be—?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Stop. You know I can do without it. I’ve done without it for years. You, however, seem to need it constantly.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“John,” Sherlock sighed, shifting closer to the table on his chair; only wincing very faintly at the movement, something that made John’s face hot. “You can’t deny that you have had a string of lovers for some time now. Sex is something you crave. You’re always getting off with women.”

John pursed his lips in annoyance and pointed at Sherlock sternly, “I’ve only had a “string of lovers” because you keep scaring my potential girlfriends away with rude and mean facts about their private lives or history.”

Sherlock looked smug for a second and grinned with a slight quirk of his mouth, “It’s not my fault that they can’t stand the truth,” he murmured. “I only point out what’s obvious. You should be thanking me, if not for me, you could have been stuck with them.”

John sighed loudly and shook his head, going back to his breakfast, “You were a right tosser for no reason other than to upset the poor women.”

“We’re going off topic,” Sherlock said with a wave of his hand, gesturing between them in the next moment. “Is this thing going to continue? Do I have to put up with you wanting to get your leg over every once in a while, or are you going to go back to trying to get it from women?”

John blinked at him, “Excuse me? “Put up with”? You’ll have to put up with me, will you? Well, if that’s the case, then sure, the last thing you said, why change routine now? God, you make me out to sound like some dog on heat or something.”

“You know, I thought you’d be more…” Sherlock muttered with a sweep of an arm, clearly not listening to John. “Well, I thought you’d have a sexuality crisis at the very least.”

“I did that,” John grumbled.

“Oh?”

John nodded towards the bathroom with his head, “In the bathroom. Broke down and everything,” he said. “You would have loved it, no doubt.”

Sherlock snorted and inclined his head, “Would definitely have been something to see.”

They lapsed into silence and John glanced towards Sherlock, watching him dunk biscuits into his coffee periodically whilst turning his attention to the newspaper with a crease between his brows. The same crease had been there the night before as Sherlock had arched and tensed in orgasm, and John licked his lips at the memory, shifting in his chair and crossing his legs. It wasn’t a lie, John had indeed suffered a crisis in the bathroom that morning, and had ultimately realised by the end that there was nothing to it but to carry on; John had let it get out of hand with Celina, had let her control him and Sherlock, had let her change something between them, and then John had pursued it without much hesitation afterwards, leading to the sudden but pleasurable current shift in their relationship. It had all been his own doing really, and now John knew something new about himself that he never had known about before. What everyone had been saying about him and Sherlock was now, somewhat, true.

“Do you want to do it again now?” Sherlock asked out of the blue, lifting his eyes when John gaped at him in faint confusion. “I have a bit of an erection, if that helps? Have had one for a while now.”

“I…what? Sherlock…you…you can’t just…can we go back a second? Are you asking me to—?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

John coughed, unable to breathe for an embarrassing moment, “But…but aren’t you…uncomfortable from…from before?”

Sherlock shrugged, “Only a little,” he replied casually with a growing blush. “We can always do something else.”

“Wait, so this thing is actually going to continue then? You want it to, I mean?” John said with a little swell of arrogance as he narrowed his eyes and smiled faintly. “Obviously you do, otherwise you wouldn’t have brought it up—Gosh, Sherlock. Am I really that good?”

“Shut up,” Sherlock huffed, rustling the newspaper and then peeking at him with a curling grin. “But yes. Yes, you are.”

John laughed in shock and then flushed, rubbing his brow, both coy and self-confident, “Right. Well. Maybe…later?”

“Now,” Sherlock said, voice a few octaves lower and his eyes heatedly on John from under his fringe.

“I…I don’t know if…” John muttered, faltering under Sherlock’s gaze and knowing expression. John had also been sporting an erection for a time.

“Fellatio?” Sherlock suggested offhandedly, folding the newspaper away and standing from his seat slowly, his dressing gown tenting outwards at the crotch slightly.

“Fella—what?” John stammered, staring up at Sherlock with wide eyes, trying not to look down at his friend’s evidently aroused state and failing. “Sherlock, I…maybe we do need to discuss this? Just a little?”

“It’s a perfect way to shut me up, for once,” Sherlock offered as he hooked his foot around John’s chair leg and shifted him around and away from the table with a few rough jerks. “Don’t you want to shut me up, John?”

“Jesus,” John grunted, suddenly lightheaded as more of his blood rushed south. “Sherlock…we…we really…”

“Didn’t talk much last night,” Sherlock mumbled as he dropped slowly to his knees and shuffled forward, his eyes on John’s face. Sherlock was blushing like mad, his cheeks and the tops of his ears rosy, and John gaped, unable to tear his eyes away.

Sherlock paused briefly, for a moment or two, and then leaned forwards and pulled John free with warm fingers. He admired John from all angles and then pushed the tip of John’s erection to his mouth timidly, smearing and rolling it along his top lip, as if unsure on what to do with it.

“You…you don’t have to…Sherlock…God…please,” John stuttered in a faint slur, gripping a handful of Sherlock’s hair automatically, his head falling back only to roll forwards again so he could stare down at Sherlock on his knees. 

“Ah, good idea,” Sherlock said against John’s hardened skin, reaching up to secure John’s hand more firmly on his head. “You can direct me.”

John cursed lowly under his breath and then arched off the chair with a shudder of his hips when Sherlock finally took him into his mouth, suckling shyly and then angling his jaw and head to better take John as he lengthened a little further in excitement. Sherlock was inexperienced but eager and an extremely fast learner, and John grunted in pleasure at the slick, wet, hard suction and enthusiastic press of tongue. 

Half way through Sherlock paused and slipped off with a shaky, wet, breath, and John opened eyes he didn’t fully remember closing, and watched as Sherlock untied his dressing gown and thrust a hand into his pyjama trousers to take himself in hand with a rumbling groan that vibrated up John’s twitching shaft.

“Like sucking me off, do you?” John asked gutturally, distantly surprised at the sound of his voice, as well as the words he hadn’t meant to actually utter aloud.

“Clearly,” Sherlock replied in a whispery breath, locking eyes with John and bending to kiss the head of John’s erection. “Come in my mouth. I’m interested to know what it tastes like—”

John cursed gruffly and swatted Sherlock’s temple, “Don’t talk like that. I’m not some…experiment,” John mumbled, jerking his hips a little to poke Sherlock in the chin with curling, wonky smile; surprised at how at ease and how comfortable they both were, despite the nervous flutters John had experienced beforehand.

“You are…just a little,” Sherlock smirked, shuffling closer on the floor and taking John back into his mouth before John could reply, teasing him with slow, investigating movements that only quickened when John couldn’t help but thrust up with an eager stutter.

The sight of Sherlock with his mouth wrapped around John’s dick, his eyes fluttering, and his hand working in his trousers, made John desperately flushed with overpowering arousal and desire, and he groaned, tugging and pressing on Sherlock’s head to set the pace and rub himself along Sherlock’s teeth, tongue, and cheek pleasurably; desperately enthusiastic to feel his way inside Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock moaned in reply and the sound hummed and shuddered to John’s core, bringing him closer to orgasm embarrassingly quickly. 

John tried to hold back and let Sherlock have a little more control when he realised he was perhaps being a tad too eager, and slumped down in the chair with a long exhale as Sherlock worked out each and every way to send trembles through John’s thighs and bursts of building pleasure through his pelvis. Sherlock’s confidence and skills, increased with every passing minute, as well as the erratic movement of his hand has he worked over his own twitching erection, and John stared at him with a heated gaze, combing his fingers through Sherlock’s curls and stroking over his ears passionately. 

Sherlock pulled off a few moments later and rubbed his jaw, massaging it with a wry grin and licking his lips, “Am I…doing it correctly?”

“Shut up. You know you are,” John grunted, dropping his head back with an unstable sigh as his penis throbbed almost violently before Sherlock’s mouth, flushed dark and glistening wet.

Sherlock huffed arrogantly at the sight and licked a slow, hot, strip up John’s length before taking him back into his mouth once more, increasing the suction until his cheeks hollowed. John gripped his hair in sudden delight, bucking tautly with a hitched breath, and before John could vocalise the forewarning of his swift, engulfing orgasm, he ejaculated roughly across Sherlock’s clever flicking tongue, hitting the back of Sherlock’s throat and filling his mouth. Sherlock gurgled in surprise and automatically swallowed, then rutted wild and impassioned into his own fist, dislodging John’s pulsating penis from his mouth in the process and spraying, and smearing his cheek and chin with the next few spurts of ejaculate. 

“God…” John breathed when he could think clearly again, shaking in aftershock with a few uncontrollable twitches, and grinning with a bubble of slurred laughter. “Your face…come here…”

Sherlock collapsed towards him lethargically and rested his head on John’s thigh, upturning his chin when John cleaned the mess from his skin with the edge of John’s own dressing gown. John sniggered and without conscious thought, hooked his hands under Sherlock’s armpits and lifted him up into his lap to nuzzle the edge of his jaw.

“So,” Sherlock breathed, face pressed into the crook of John’s throat as he breathed heavily and trembled. “Shall we upgrade our relationship to “friends with benefits”? That is the correct term, is it not? Explains what this is?”

John rolled his eyes fondly and shrugged, pulling Sherlock’s warm body closer, “Sure, why not…”

Sherlock hummed, apparently satisfied, and pushed his growing grin into John’s cheek, “No need for more girlfriends then, excellent,” he murmured and John turned to shoot him a look, to which Sherlock beamed, nudging their noses together.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels me!


End file.
